My Worst Side Is My Best Side
by WhitestKidUKnow
Summary: Things got weirder after I was knocked out in the freak Marching band accident. When I woke up, I wasn't alone. Well, the room was empty, but thats not what I mean. Its a weird feeling, sharing your head with another mind. Especially when it's the Joker's
1. Introduction

_**Hi! This is gonna be kind of a weird one. I have so many cool ideas though, so please stick around. Review please, and if there's anything I could do better please let me know. The Joker in this story will be the Heath Ledger version, cause he's so fun to write! Enjoy, review, you know the drill!**_

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_I was just an average 18 year old girl. Well, unless being a rabid comic book fangirl made me unaverage. Sleeping under a Batman comforter when you're legally an adult isn't that bad, right? I mean, just because my entire wardrobe consisted of comic book merchandise didn't make me weird, did it? _

_...._

_Okay, let me try that again._

_I was just a weird 18 year old girl._

_Then things got a lot weirder after I was knocked out in the freak Marching Band accident._

_When I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital room, and I had the feeling that I wasn't alone. Then I heard a voice. I realized it was coming from me, but it wasn't my voice. Well, it was my voice, but it wasn't me._

_It doesn't make a lot of sense. Maybe I'm crazy._

_How else could the mind of the fictional criminal mastermind, the Joker, be living in my head?_

_It's an odd feeling, sharing your body with another mind. _

_There was almost constantly a fight for control. Since I was more familiar with my body than the Joker was, I usually won. Sometimes, however, the Joker would get lucky and seize control of one of my arms when I wasn't paying attention, then he would grab whatever object I was holding in my opposite hand and chuck it across the room. I often had to tell people I had Alien Hand Syndrome. He thought it was hilarious. _

_One time, while I ('we' would be more accurate, I guess) was at the restaurant where my mom worked, he tried to strangle me to death. I'm sure it looked very comical, and now I don't blame people for laughing (I mean, I had toppled out of my chair and was turning purple in the face before the Joker finally stopped) but at that moment, I was a tiny bit peeved that nobody helped me. Which is completely dumb, because to them it looked like I was choking myself. They thought I was kidding._

_Plus, there was no way to keep secrets. He could see what I was thinking, I could see what he was thinking. That was always disturbing. _

_Even more disturbing was the fact that as the time passed, I began to think more and more like him. According to him, we had thought similarly from the get-go. I wouldn't believe that._

_Our moods affected each other. If he was in a good mood, so was I. If he was feeling particularly muderous, so was I. Vice versa._

_It wasn't all bad, though. We had a lot of laughs together. There were some serious moments in between. Over the course of time, we formed a friendship. It was an odd friendship, but it was there._

_And thanks to him, I realized what was missing in my life._

* * *

**_BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEEEEEP!_**

Courtney groaned. How she hated alarm clocks. Nothing could ruin a good dream better than the obnoxious whines of a digital clock. If only life was like that old Disney movie, Smart House. The kids in that movie were woken up by Basketball games and Disney World projected on the walls.

No, no. Courtney wouldn't want a basket ball game to wake her up; she hated sports. She would never go to a sports gathering if it wasn't for band. Not that the band students paid attention to the game.

What would she want to wake her up? The opening for Batman The Animated Series would be great. Or maybe a montage of Joker laughs. That would be better.

Lost in her thoughts, Courtney had begun to drift back off to sleep.

**_BEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!!_**

Startled, Courtney jerked and fell right out of her bed.

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up!" She said, as if the inanimate object could understand her. She pulled herself up off the floor and reached for the clock. She fiddled with it, trying to find the off switch.

Funny, how she'd had it for almost a year and she had trouble turning it off.

She finally silenced it after another few minutes.

"Oooh, what now? Stupid clock."

She picked her sheets up from the floor and hastily spread them back across her matress, then did the same with her Batman comforter. After her bed was (sloppily) made, she plopped down near Batman's head.

"Ya think it's gonna be a good day today, Batsy?" She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her head in her hand. The Batman was frowning. "I guess that's a no...?" Still frowning. "Well, thanks for your opinion." She hopped off her bed and headed to her closet.

Appearances were not a big thing for her. She didn't particularly care what other people thought, so she dressed how she wanted. (Which, according to her best friend Sam, was like a ten year old boy.)

She quickly threw on her Marvel Civil War shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Not skinny jeans, which were very popular with her peers. Skinny jeans on her would be chunky jeans. She had made a resolution to lose weight last New Year...That hadn't worked out. She was tired of worrying about her weight. She was tired of worrying period.

If there was one thing she hated more than the alarm clock, it was worrying.

When her stomach gave a loud gurgle, Courtney decided to make her way into kitchen. She found her mother sitting at the table, hidden behind a newspaper.

"Morning, Ma." She took a seat across from her mom. The newspaper lowered, revealing the face of the older woman. She had extremely dark brown eyes and hair, both of which Courtney had inherited.

"Hey hun! I'm glad to see you got up on your own this morning. I thought I was going to have to come and drag you out." Mom said, grinning.

Courtney, helping herself to a pop-tart, grumbled about her damn alarm clock. Mom raised an eyebrow at her.

"Giving up on your diet?"

"Yup. It's not worth it. I'm fine being chunky. Besides, it's too hard to lose weight. You wouldn't know, of course, you've never been fat a day in your life," she said, shoving the rest of the pop-tart in as messily as she could. Mom rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I didn't even think you needed to go on a diet. Please do something about those crumbs," She said, eyeing the mess infront of her daughter. Courtney snorted.

"_Didn't need a diet?_ Please Ma, my ass is three times the size it should be. Plus, I'm short. That makes it even worse. But whatever. We can't all be anorexic." She took her hand and swept the crumbs off the table and onto the floor.

"Courtney Cutler, get a broom and sweep that up right now!" Courtney raised her hands in defeat and went to grab the broom. As she was sweeping the remnants of her pop-tart into the dustpan, her mother glanced down at her wristwatch. "I've got to go." She looked around for her purse.

"But I thought you didn't have to be there till eight. You have an hour." Mom had located her purse and was now searching for her car keys.

"Yeah, but today's going to be a busy day. The blueberry pie is half priced. That usually means better tips, so maybe we'll go shopping this weekend." She found her keys on top of the bread box. "Try to have a good day at school, kay?" She said, before dashing out the door.

Courtney rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she hated more than alarm clocks and worrying, it was school.

Her stomach dropped as she thought of the place; she absolutely dreaded it.

It wasn't the learning part of school that she hated. In fact, she loved to learn...Well, she loved to learn things that she _wanted_ to learn about.

If she wasn't interested in it, it was a total waste of time to her; 75% of the things the teachers were trying to teach, she could care less about. She hated that _they_ decided what she should learn about.

And she hated the feeling school gave her; it made her feel trapped. She felt vaguely like she was in a prison every time she was there.

With the way some of her peers acted, it could be an insane asylum.

Her own personal Arkham. Interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

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THREE REVIEWS? HOLY APPLE SAUCE THAT'S AWESOME! Thanks so much, reviewers. Once again, I know this is a weird idea, but stick with me. It will get better. Anyway, I've had this chapter typed up for awhile, but I wanted to see how my Introduction did before I posted it. Three reviews, heck yes! Here ya go. Review and you will make me a very happy lass. This chapter is mainly character development. I'm a big fan of Character development. Next chapter is the Marching band accident, which means Joker is being brought into the story. Oh, and the story will now be in first person, cause I typed one of the later chapters in both third and first person POV, and first person made much more sense. I'ma go back and change the first Chapter later. Enjoy and review please!

**_By the way, I don't own anything Batman related. Duh._**

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I sat on the step of my front porch, leaning against the wooden beam. I had been out there for ten minutes already, waiting for my friend Samantha to come pick me up.

I had never owned my own car. We couldn't afford one.

Mom worked at a little restaurant called The Dinner Table six days a week. The place was very popular amongst senior citizens. Cheap senior citizens, though, so she didn't make a lot of money there. On Saturdays, her day off, she cleaned a few houses.

We never had much money. Mom hadn't finished high school, so there weren't many job options for her.

Most of my clothes were bought second hand. I couldn't even remember the last time I bought something new. Some clothes, though, were hand-me-downs from my older cousins in Chicago. Thankfully, they were comic book fans, so I got some pretty good stuff from them.

I had tried to get jobs, to help her out. After all, if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this predicament.

But every time I got a job, I would have to quit. Either it interfered with band rehearsals or my grades dropped. I offered to quit band, so I could keep a job and I would have more time to study. But she would have none of that

"Band makes you happy! Don't you worry about money, we're doing fine!"

Yeah. That's a joke.

Bless her for being optimistic, though.

I glanced around for the umpteenth time. Still no sign of Sam's lime green Volkswagen bug. I gagged at the very thought of that thing.

Sam's (rich) parents got it for her on her recent 18th birthday. Sam was thrilled, of course. She was constantly bragging about her 'awesome new car'. I itched to tell her that I thought the vomit color it was painted should have been illegal.

But an ugly car is better than no car, so I kept my mouth shut.

Still no sign of said ugly car.

I was starting to get a little agitated.

I noticed that I had begun to tap my feet and was rocking back and forth slightly. This habit had been picked up a while ago. Sometimes I felt like if I sat still too long I would go insane. Or die. Whatever.

I was always so restless.

And bored. Oh, the boredom.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like there was nothing to do in Hillsboro, Tennessee. There was a movie theatre, and a Wal-Mart. And if you really wanted to party hard, there was always cow-tipping.

Yes. Exciting.

Finally, I heard the roar of an engine. I stood up and stretched before slinging my tattered book bag over mt shoulder. The familiar horrible green bug flew around the corner and slammed to a stop in front of my house. I grimaced. How Sam passed her driving test, I had no idea.

I pulled open the passenger door. "Took you long enough, didn't it?" I said, glancing at Sam as I plopped down on the seat. She was smiling sheepishly.

"I'm sorry Courtney. I woke up later than I should have, but I was not leaving the house until my hair was perfect." She pushed a lock of her golden hair behind her ear. "You weren't waiting too long, were you?"

"Eh. Not really."

Unless you count half an hour as being a long time.

I buckled my seatbelt. "Alright, let's go get this day over with."

"Why are you so down on school? I love it." Sam smoothed down her bright blue tanktop before putting on her own seatbelt. I raised an eyebrow.

"Did you not wear your seatbelt on the way here?"

"I'm only putting it on now so you won't complain. I don't need to wear one because I'm an excellent driver!" I snorted.

"Mmm. About that..."

"Shut up! You avoided my question. What's so bad about school?" We jerked forward as Sam's foot found the gas pedal.

"Well, for one, I do get picked on a lot, if you hadn't noticed." I said, turning away from her to stare out the window. Her eyes were on me. I didn't like that. It bothered me to no end when people looked at me. Maybe it was just a self esteem thing. After all, I couldn't even stand to look people in the eye.

Plus, Sam's eyes should have been on the rode.

"Don't let that get to you. Mason Thomas is a jerk, that's just how he is. But, you know..." There was a pause as Sam glanced over at me. I stared determinedly out the window. "Mason and his posse wouldn't make fun of you so much if you took some pride in your appearance. Like, instead of wearing your hair pulled up everyday, take some time in the mornings to straighten it."

I scowled.

"By 'some time' do you mean 'three hours'? Isn't that the reason you were late?"

"Courtney, just listen for a minute. You could stop wearing all that comic book crap, that's the main reason everyone makes fun of you. And you and me could go jogging everyday after school! Wouldn't that be nice? Being in band doesn't make your reputation any better, either. If you dropped that-"

"Okay!" I interjected angrily. "So you're saying that all I have to do to get people to leave me alone is change my wardrobe, my hair, my weight, and my extracurricular activities? What kind of douche-baggery is _that_?" I gave a humorless chuckle. "Y'know, I bet you would like me better if I changed, too, wouldn't you?"

"No! You're my best friend! Of course not. I was just saying-" She took a deep breathe. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I meant it." I said nothing for a few minutes. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I gazed out the window at the passing scenery. There was a pasture, then another, then another, then a large house, then another pasture. It was endless. Suddenly, I felt extremely frustrated. I turned away from the window and glanced at Sam. "Hey...Have you ever thought of leaving?" My friend frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Leaving Hillsboro. Haven't you ever thought of running away?"

"No. Not really. I've been here all my life, I couldn't dream of leaving. Besides, all my family's here. And Eric. Once me and Eric get married, this town is the perfect place to raise children. Why did you ask that?"

I hesitated. "Sometimes...Sometimes I just dream of setting this place on fire and running." Sam gasped.

"What?"

"I don't know. I just feel so...Gah, I can't even explain it. I just feel trapped. That's the best way to sum it up."

"Well, this is our last year of High School. Once we're out of there, that feeling will just dissappear." She smiled at me. "Trust me."

I didn't feel relieved. Sam wanted nothing more than to settle down in that little town. She dreamed of marrying her boyfriend, and having kids. The thought of all that made my stomach clench. She would always be worrying. Worrying about her kids, about her husband, about their bills. Her days would all be the same. Waking up early, going to work, taking the kids to school, picking them up, cooking, cleaning... She would always be trapped.

I couldn't live like that. I_ wouldn't._

But was there any way around it?

"Well, here we are!" Sam said. I blinked.

"What?" She rolled her eyes.

"We're here. You know, at school?"

"Oh." I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed we had even gotten close. "Well. Let's go then. I want this day to end as soon as possible."

Little did I know that my life would soon be turned upside down...or maybe it was turned right side up.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Here we are! It took longer to post than I had planned, but I sprained my _****_elbow earlier in the week. It hurt. I cried. Please read and review, or I'll cry some more. I'm so pumped about the next chapter! I bet you can guess why. REVIEW PLEASE! I love people who review._**

The day was going by very slow. It had a weird sort of pattern going on.

I would walk into one class and come out 45 minutes later without even knowing what subject I had just studied....Well, studied is a strong word. Mostly I just doodled on the sides of my paper while the teacher babbled on and on and on. They would all notice that I wasn't paying attention.

_"_Courtney, put that away!"

"Ms. Cutler, please pay attention!"

"Cutler! Do you want to fail?"

After being scolded, I would put my doodles away and try my hardest to focus on the lesson.

"A Flower in the Atticwas controversial because of the incestuous relationship..."

After a minute, my mind would start to wander.

_I wonder if Spaceboy and The Rumor's kiss would be counted as incest...No, they were adopted, so it wouldn't count..._

A few more minutes, and I was totally gone.

_I wonder if Jack Kirby and Stan Lee ever fist fought. I bet Stan Lee would've won..._

I didn't speak to anyone, and no one spoke to me. Almost my whole day went by in this fashion, until I left my history class (or was it math?). I glanced down at my schedule, nearly squealing in delight as I took in what was written. The only class left was band.

"Well, I'm going to make it through this day without any life altering incidents!" I said aloud, adding a little skip to my step.

"Talking to yourself, freak?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face the speaker. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Nobody could ruin an already ruined day like Mason Thompson.

You couldn't be more stereo-typical than Mason Thompson. Quarter back of the football team, six feet tall, with about 200 pounds of muscle on his bones, everything about him screamed jock. Including his D average.

He wasn't really known as a bully. No one had any problems with him, except me.

I guess he just had a sweet spot for almost-five-feet fatties.

How's that for alliteration?

"Hey! Can't you hear me? Are the voices in your head being too loud?" His robotic posse laughed.

Looking down at the floor, I shook my head. Could the people here be any less interesting? It was like I was stuck in some teen movie that I didn't have a script for.

When I looked back up, I had the biggest smile I could manage plastered on my face.

"Hee! That's a good one! But..." I suddenly replaced my smile with a serious expression and glanced around. "You really shouldn't talk bad about my voices." I dropped my voice to a whisper. "They can get really angry. You don't want to make them angry."

People are going to think you're insane, so why not go with it? You'll get a few laughs, if nothing else.

I noticed one of the Thompson clones take a step back. Winking at him, I turned to walk away. Suddenly, I was jerked backwards. I landed hard on the cold floor at Thompson's feet. The jerk leaned over me, with what was supposed to be an intimidating look on his face. I blinked once, then smiled.

"Well, you're even uglier upside down." He reared his leg back and kicked as hard as he could at my arm, which was squeezing my textbooks tightly against my chest. My books went flying across the floor as I hissed in pain.

That douche could kick.

Why did it have to be quarterback? 'A nerd that gets picked on by a football player'. How cliche is that? I would much rather be bullied by a member of the chess team. That would be mixing it up. That would be hiliarious!

I couldn't help but grin at my thoughts. Thompson leaned down closer, so close I could smell his breath. I thought vaguely of leaning up and biting his nose off.

"You better watch yourself, freak. I'll wipe that grin off your face." I rolled my eyes. Seriously? I was supposed to be afraid of that? If you're going to threaten somebody, then at least be original.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Could you spit the penis out of your mouth and try again?" One of the clones came in from nowhere and jerked at my ponytail. I gritted my teeth, trying not to cry out. When I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, I couldn't hold it in.

Thompson and one other of his groupies were taking turns putting their feet into my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shut it all out.

Why did I put up with all of this?

Then, all at once, the pain stopped. My eyes popped open again.

Thompson was adjusting his Letterman jacket, looking very pleased with himself. His playmates were imitating him, all trying to look important.

"It's been fun playing with you, freak, but we're gonna be late to class," he said, walking away.

Watching him walk away, I yearned to jump onto his back, to smash his head into a locker over and over again. But I knew I couldn't. If you matched up my not-even-five-foot height against his six, his would win. I sighed as I sat there, letting them walk away.

I wanted to hurt them all so bad that it hurt for me not to do it. I was going to show them one day. I was going to make them regret everything they had ever done, and I didn't just mean picking on me. No, I was going to make them pay for being so painfully _boring_. They didn't even have personalities, they were just whatever it took to be 'in'.

"That was one wicked case of douche-baggery," I mumbled, pushing myself up off the ground. I set about collecting my books. As I leaned down to pick up one of my notebooks, I moaned. Grasping at my side, I took a deep breath.

There was definately going to be a bruise there. I clenched my teeth together and swiftly grabbed my notebook. Once I regained all my supplies I set off towards the band room.

Nothing could make that day any worse.

* * *

"Grab your horns, go to the practice field!" All the students moaned in response to this order.

Well, I was wrong. That day definatley got worse.

I assembled my french horn and began the long walk down to the practice field.

It wasn't that I didn't like marching; however, marching after you just got the pudding beat out of you was sure to be an uncomfortable experience.

As I slowly followed the pavement, a cool breeze danced across my face. I closed my eyes, enjoying it. At least the weather was nice. When I reopened my eyes, I looked for traces of the sun. Luckily, there weren't any. The sky was completely gray. I grinned, encouraged.

"Hey! CeeCee, wait up!" I turned back to find Ronnie Myers, another french horn player, running towards me, attempting to balance his horn under his arm. My grin grew bigger. This boy was a riot.

"Hello, handsome!" I said. He cocked an eyebrow as he fell into step beside me. Funny thing about us band geeks, it seems we're always in step.

"Good day today?"He asked lightly bumping into me. I giggled.

"Nope! But there's no sun, and that makes me kind of perky."

"I thought you had something against the sun! I mean, pale as you are." I tsk'ed at the shaggy haired boy.

"Now, now. You know as well as I do that marching with the sun glaring down at you is about as much fun as getting kicked in the ribs by a quarterback." Ronnie's brow furrowed.

"That bastard still giving you trouble?" I smiled widely.

"Yup!" He looked at me, disbelief written all over his face.

"How can you be so cheerful about getting beat up?"

"Because, dear Ronnie, I hear that karma can be a bitch. And karma is my middle name." He laughed.

"You're something else, you know?" I felt a little tug in my stomach as I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, a tiny smile on his face.

"Hmm." I mumbled, looking down at the concrete. I just wished that he would stop looking at me. He was quiet for a few seconds. Then I heard him clear his throat, so I looked at him expectantly.

"You know that issue of Fantastic Four? The one where Doctor Doom makes his first appearance? The one that you've been lusting after for quite awhile now?" I perked up immediately.

"Fantastic Four #5?" He chuckled at my eagerness.

"That would be the one. Well, I got one for you!" My jaw dropped.

"You didn't!" I squealed. As he nodded, I couldn't hold in a squeal. That was the reason Ronnie was one of my two friends. He was just so incredibly awesome, what with his comic book knowledge and interest in art, we just clicked.

Our smiles faded as we reached our destination.

The dreaded practice field was actually an old parking lot behind the school. There were some very large cracks running across the pavement, and bits and pieces of bright green moss were poking through. There was a steep ditch right behind the lot, so if you stepped of the concrete, you would fall to your doom. Well, maybe not your doom, but you would get a nasty boo boo. And maybe a concussion.

"Cutler, Myers, HUSTLE!" boomed our drill-sergeant of a band director from the middle of the field, where all the other students were waiting. So Ronnie and I turned our hustle on and sprinted to join the circle of nerds.

"Now that we're all here, go to chart one. Come on, HUSTLE!" I groaned as I sprinted to my spot in chart six. Hustling is hard when you're fat. So I waddled.

"If he says 'hustle' one more time, I'm going to hustle my horn up his-" Ronnie, whose spot was right across from mine began, but he was cut off by-

"HUSTLE!"

"GAH!" I tried to giggle, but I was too out of breath. So I just took deep breaths instead.

I saw the Drum Major climb up on his podium. He raised his hands in the air. Everyone raised their horns to their faces. I went into game mode, concentrating on nothing but where I was going next. The Drum Major counted us off. And there we went.

It's a wonderful feeling, being part of a marching band. Loud, sure. Exhausting, of course. But it was wonderful. One of the few things that I liked about school. It made me feel proud, something I didn't feel often.

We marched from one chart to the next, making sure to roll our feet and keep our shoulders squared. I blared my music as loud as I could, because there was no 'piano' in marching band. Everything was going great, we sounded amazing that day. The color guard was doing better than usual, too.

I'm not too sure what went wrong. Below the music, I heard someone scream, and then the people in front of me started tripping. Most fell down, but one color guard girl came stumbling towards me, trying to regain her balance. I tried to dodge out of the way, but her flag caught me right in the face. I was knocked backwards, I felt myself roll on the concrete. Then I was falling. I vaguely knew that I had been knocked into the ditch.

I felt an extremely sharp pain in my head. That's the last thing I remember from that day.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Here we go! I hope you guys like this one! I worked pretty hard on it. If you have any suggestions to make it better, let me know! Also, I've written a few chapters of an Incredibles fic. I'm not sure if I'm going to post it. It's a Syndrome fic, and if your an Incredibles fan, just say so in the review you're going to leave me and I might post it! lol Please review? Please?_**

My head was killing me. I had never had a headache like it before. If it continued to throb with that level of intensity then I was surely going to die. I tried to pull my thoughts together.

I didn't remember ever going to sleep.

I could see white through my eyelids. There was a bright light over me, which meant that I wasn't in my room.

Wrenching my eyes open, I groaned. I was in a hospital room. That explained the bright lights.

But why? Why was I in the hospital? Had school finally caused my brain to implode?

Then I remembered marching band practice. Everyone had been tripped over something, then I got nailed in the head by a flag.

A perfect end to a perfect day...in bizarro world.

I gasped as my head gave a particularly violent throb, and in the midst of the pain a vivid image suddenly came to mind.

_"Okay, Thompson and Riley, you're the team captains. I'll be grading papers on the bench if there's any trouble, kay kids?" The two eight year old boys scrambled forward to face the line of kids. The young Thompson put his hands on his hips and turned to face the other boy._

_"I get first pick!" Riley nodded._

_"Sure, Mason!" He was obviously eager to be in Thompson's favor._

_Thompson scanned the long line of his peers. Finally, his eyes rested on a tall brown headed boy._

_"Jake!" Jake's face lit up as he strode forward to join Thompson. _

_Riley called out a name._

_Thompson called out a name._

_This continued for awhile until all the children had been put on a team, except for one._

_The younger version of myself stared at ground, pulling at the hem of my over-sized t-shirt. My cheeks were turning redder with each passing second. Thompson pouted mockingly._

_"Aww, poor Cutler! No one wants her!" A chorus of laughter echoed through the playground. My little fists clenched. Insults flew at me from all directions._

_"Are you gonna cry?"_

_"Playing Red Rover with you on a team would be cheating! You'd knock everyone over!"_

_"Freak!"_

_I bit my lip to keep myself from crying. Gathering up my courage, I lifted my head to give the children around me a huge smile. The shocked looks on their faces was enough to make me laugh._

_I laughed as loudly as I possible could as I stalked over to the swingset on the other side of the playground. I plopped down on my favorite swing._

_As I swang as high as I could, a more peaceful smile found my lips as I imagined flying away._

_"I will someday."_

I shook my head, trying to shake the memory away. Why had I remembered that all of a sudden? It definatley wasn't one of my best memories.

As I thought about the girl in the swing, I realized that nothing had changed since then. I was still letting everyone push me around. I still always had my head down.

I still hadn't flown away.

Before I could continue that thought, there was another image, so realistic that it was as if I was watching a televison show.

_A small boy was on his hands and knees in the middle of a large groups of kids. His face was sheilded by sand colored hair, but because of the large drops of blood that were forming a puddle on the ground below him, it was obvious that his face was somehow injured._

_"Ya gonna laugh now, freak?" The largest boy in the group asked, looking extremely pleased with himself._

_The tiny boy lifted his head, revealing a split lip and a few large bruises across his face. His dark eyes narrowed._

_"Sure. Ha. Ha. HA." He said, spiting out blood between every syllable. Then he smiled._

_One of the spectating girls wrinkled her nose._

_"Ugh! Freak!"_

_Shouts of 'freak' echoed throughout the group. _

_Then the large boy and a few friends leaped onto the still smiling boy._

I gasped as the image ended, my heart beating a great deal faster than normal. Where had that come from? That had never happened.

That poor boy! Even though everyone was against him, he had smiled. Just like I had. Who was that scrawny little boy? Did he even exist? Maybe I was going crazy. Seeing things that never happened usually meant that you're crazy, doesn't it?

I squeezed my eyes closed again. I was overreacting. That had probably been a scene from a movie that I had forgotten about. Yeah, that was probably it.

My heart slowed down, only to speed back up when I had the oddest feeling that I wasn't alone.

Glancing nervously around the room, I saw that it was completely empty; however, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there with me. I started to call out to see if there was anyone there when suddenly my head started to throb again. It was the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life.

My head, my skull, my _brain_, everything was burning. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I still felt tears traveling down my face. I bit my lip so hard to keep from screaming that I drew blood. I couldn't think!

I opened my mouth to let the scream escape, but the only sound that came was a tiny gasp. What was happening to me?

Then it happened. All these memories played, so crystal clear that they could have just happened yesterday. Some were my memories, but others...

_I was about twelve years old. I was sitting in a chair next to my mother in front of a large desk, where the elementary school Principal sat._

_"Your daughter is very smart, Ms. Cutler, but..." My mother stiffened._

_"But what?"_

_"She has problems with the other students. She hardly talks to anyone, and when she does speak, everything she says is horribley rude. Today, there was a fight. She bit Mason Thompson's arm and gave Gavin Riley a fat lip. That type of behavior is not condoned here."_

_"Courtney tells me every day about how those boys pick on her! They start it and you're punishing her?!" _

_"We've never witnessed any of that. All we saw was your daughter's violent behavior. We're going to have to suspend her for a week."_

_---_

_There was a classroom filled with children. Tables were scattered throughout the room. Everybody sat in groups, working on an art project. There was only one child sitting alone._

_A lanky sandy-haired boy was sitting at a table in the back corner of a room, hunched over his work. The teacher was making her way around the room, examining the students art._

_"Oh, what a beautiful drawing! Good job guys!" She somewhat reluctantly made her way back to the boy's table. "Show me what you've done." The boy glanced up at her and slowly leaned up, revealing the paper he had been drawing on. It seemed to be a sloppy blue print for something. The teacher gasped in horror._

_"Get out of my class! NOW!"_

_The boy chuckled as he stalked towards the exit._

_---_

_I was on my knees infront of my house. Rain was pouring all around me, but I didn't move. I had wanted to burn that small house down so badly. I was going to do it. My mother and I could find a new home, a better home. Then, as I right as I had plucked up my courage and was about to light a match, the rain came. It came hard, pounding down on my body so heavily that it was painful._

_I lowered my head in shame. By the time the the rain left, my courage had, too._

_---_

_A tall boy was standing infront of a flaming building, a smile on his face. Not that he could stop smiling, even if he wanted too. He stood there for a while, listening. _

_Listening to the majestic roar of the fire, to the crackling of the dissovling wood, to the agonizing screams coming from inside. Listening as he let his former life burn to the ground. He cocked his head to the side, an observing look on his face._

_Fire was such a beautiful thing. The dance of the flames were hypnotic; the warmth, enchanting. It made you want to get closer. But you couldn't. Not without getting burned. _

_But it was so beautiful._

_And he wasn't the one that was going to get burned._

_The laughter could be heard even over the racket from the fire._

_---_

The images became shorter and more blurred as the pain intensified even more. The thoughts came at a rapid pace, one after the other.

---

_Mom was crying again. It was my fault..._

_---_

_Looking into a cracked bathroom mirror, the scarred man began to apply thick greasepaint to his face. There was so much to do..._

_---_

_I was decked out in full marching band uniform, ready for the first field show of the season..._

_---_

_He slid a clown mask over his already painted face..._

_---_

_Mason Thompson was kicking me repeatedly in the ribs. The spectators were all laughing._

_---_

_The man with smugded clown make up was thrown against a wall by a large man, a cape on his back and a cowl hiding his face. The scarred man was laughing._

_---_

_It was the accident. Everyone was tripping. I was knocked into the ditch..._

_--_

_"He's right behind us, boss!" One man said, peering out the open door of a large van._

_The clown laughed, jumping forward to kick the messenger out of the moving vehicle._

_"Hee hee. Oooops!" He took the disposed man's place at the door. He glanced out himself. __"Weelll, I wasn't ah, expe**ct**ing him to come so soon!" He said between fits of giggles. He stuck his head all the way out to get a better look..._

_And was knocked out by a passing stop sign._

_---_

Then, as I was trying to comrehend all I had just seen, I heard a voice.

"Wha**_t_**, ha, an _odd _hal_u_cin_a_**t**ion..."


End file.
